


Aimless

by Aurea (aureafolia)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27851782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureafolia/pseuds/Aurea
Summary: "They say I was once the most fearsome knight in all of Hyrule. They call me Hero. Champion.So why do I feel so impossibly small? So aimless?"
Relationships: background Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 6
Collections: Despondent: Breath of the Wild Drabbles





	Aimless

The sky is a bright stripe above, splitting the earth in two and leaving us in shadow. Heat hums in the badlands behind us, making everything in my line of sight shimmer and dance. The reprieve from the blazing sun is welcome.

Sure-footed and sturdy, my horse picks his way through the path along the river. His ears are pointed forward to catch every sound, observant and wary as ever. I’d studied his herd for days, tracking them deep into the grasslands, determined to find the perfect steed. Brave, intelligent, reliable. It took time to gain his trust, and even longer for me to decide on a name. Safflina, after the plants I collected in the Hebra range for elixirs that resemble his blue roan color.

This isn’t the first time we’ve passed through Dueling Peaks’ canyon. I loop the reins over the pommel and lean back, content to let him choose our path forward. 

They say I was once the most fearsome knight in all of Hyrule. They call me Hero. Champion.

So why do I feel so impossibly small? So aimless?

The rushing water and gurgling eddies used to be a soothing sound. I don’t know how or why I know this, just that when I close my eyes and listen, I can feel it. The same way I can feel you, sometimes -- distant but familiar. But Saff’s ears perk and he blows lowly, and when I strain I can hear it in the distance, over the babbling of the river. The din of monsters, raucous and savage. I shudder at the thought, absentmindedly gripping the horn of the saddle til my knuckles turn white. 

There’s a crumbling bridge up ahead, and I’m willing to bet anything that’s where they’ve set up camp. Poised and ready to pick off any travelers dumb enough to pass underneath. The thought makes my stomach turn. It makes my fingers itch for my bow.

The walls of the canyon are craggy, uneven. I scan my surroundings, tugging the reins to bring Safflina to a halt. The pass is too narrow for him to aid me in a fight, too easy for monsters to blockage. I need to get to higher ground if I want to have a shot at both of us making it through unscathed.

“I’ll whistle when it’s all clear,” I say as I dismount, patting his shoulder. He lowers his head, ears turned back uncertainly. “I promise. Just stay put.”

Scaling the ledges comes more naturally than I expect. It’s instinct to feel along the wall, wriggling toes in my shoes sussing out footholds and eyes scouting out a path. I refuse to look down, but take comfort in the paraglider draped over my shoulders should I fall. 

The sun sinks in the sky slowly, pitching the canyon into twilight. I watch it from my vantage point on a ledge overhead, arms draped over my knees as I pant to catch my breath. What should have been a day’s trip has been dragged out even longer, and I’m low on supplies.

I wonder if the old me -- the one they recognize, the one you call out to in quiet moments -- wouldn’t have just charged fearlessly into battle instead of wasting daylight seeking higher ground.

The monsters rally in the dwindling light, building a fire on the far side of the bridge. They roast a large animal carcass over the fire spit, dancing and chittering and completely unaware of what’s coming. Two Bokoblin guards stalk the length of the bridge, making playful jabs at each other as they pass.

I strip down silently, trading out my worn traveling clothes for the lightweight armor of the Sheikah. I pull my hair into a high bun and secure it with hairsticks. Unsheath my bow, pull an arrow from my quiver, and take a deep, slow breath to steady myself. 

Then I pull up my mask over my nose and take the leap.

I freefall for a split second before unfurling my glider, eyes focused on my target -- one of the eroded decorative pillars on the bridge. I make a wide arc overhead, notch a bomb arrow, and let it sail through the air to strike the opposite side of the bridge.

The explosion is enough to draw the guards’ attention away from their posts, away from the smell of cooking meat wafting up from below, away from the fallen knight sailing right overhead. They draw up their weapons and go to investigate, which is all the opening I need. 

My paraglider folds and I drop soundlessly behind the pillar, just out of sight. Some of the Bokoblins have moved to the river’s edge to see what all the commotion is about. A lightning arrow striking the water lapping the banks is enough to fry them on the spot, allowing me to scale down the side of the bridge and draw my sword. 

It’s over in a matter of minutes.

The guards return to find the rest of their group impaled by their own weapons, and I let them see the carnage before pressing two fingers to the rune on my Sheikah Slate -- triggering the bomb laying near their feet to explode. They are tossed like ragdolls into the river and swept away, bogged down by their heavy weapons and inability to swim. Dumb bastards.

I lean over the edge of the bridge and stick my fingers in my mouth, heaving a whistle that echoes throughout the canyon. I stay still for a moment, worry creeping up in the back of my mind like it always does when we’re apart this long -- but before long I hear the rhythmic thudding of Safflina’s gallop, and a throaty neigh to announce his arrival.

I’m having fish for dinner. I don’t trust whatever rotted hunk of meat the savages were cooking -- I won’t make that mistake again. I spear some trout and roast them over the spit, sprinkling on what little seasoning I have. Something nags at the back of my mind, draws my thoughts back to you. I wish I knew why that was.

It’s quiet tonight. I unbridle Safflina and let him graze nearby, using his saddle as a backrest as I sit near the fire. There are fireflies everywhere, glowing softly and dancing across the water. It’s mesmerizing. 

It makes it easy to forget, for a moment, that Hyrule is rotting from the inside out. 

I’ve been back to visit Impa three times since the day she told me about you. About what you did for me. About those we lost. And every time, she tells me to be patient, to gain more strength, to recover more memories before trying to free the beasts. Before charging into the castle.

But I’m not a patient person -- maybe you know that better than anyone. I hope you do. I hope you know how hard I’m trying to get to you.

Most of all, I hope you didn’t put your fate in the wrong hands. 

  
  
  



End file.
